The History of Things to Come
by Emerson Quinn
Summary: Luke/Mara vignette. Stuck together for days, frustrations and misconceptions lead to the discovery of the truth. A scene inspired by Zahn's The Last Command


**A/N: A little vignette, a little out of character for me and slightly AU. Just wondering how the conversation would have gone between these two after Mara learned about Luke's parentage and examined her reasons for wanting him dead. Let me know what you think!**

_**The History of Things to Come**_

"I'm going to kill you," she whispers. The day is hot, as all days are on this nameless planet, and her words seem as heavy as the heat.

He shrugs, indifferently. "So you say." This sweltering sultriness does not bother him, given where he was raised. Besides, he has heard this mantra a thousand times since he met her. A million times. It is rote, routine. Every time they meet; _hello, how are you, I'm going to kill you…_

And he's sick of it.

He's not tired of her. No. Luke could _never _tire of being with Mara. And it always seems that fate, or the Force, or someone with a twisted sense of humour always teams them up for this mission or that rescue. So they find themselves often side by side, opposite ends of the personality spectrum. Yet, of course, they work so well together….

But Mara always threatens it, never fails to tell him. _I'm going to kill you, you know…_

And Luke understands regret, and holding on, and denial, and every emotion linked with failure. He knows the haunting hollowness of a task left undone and that deep ache to finish the journey. And what was turning his Father back from the Dark Side but a mission? And what is Mara's misplaced anger and vengeance but fulfilling a mission? Who can say if he was wrong then or if Mara is now?

"I had the chance once, Skywalker. A long time ago." He glances to her in surprise. "But of course, you wouldn't have noticed me." Luke does not ask her to elaborate. He is her captive audience. "At Jabba's palace, when you came to rescue Solo and the rest. My Master sent me to finish you off before Vader could get his treacherous hands on you." She hisses out, "You're lucky to even _be_ alive."

Luke sighs as she narrows her eyes at him and pushes past. They've been here for three days now, waiting for word on this little errand for the New Republic. Three days here, in this Force-forsaken heat, with little to do but get in each other's way. That wasn't even counting the week it had taken just to arrive. And in Mara's ship, nonetheless. She was even fiercer when on board her own vessel. Like a territorial vornskr, she guarded her property with a feral sort of beauty. He'd been glad to leave it, but this situation was not much better.

He sits; watching her through hooded eyes as she tries unsuccessfully to pretend the heat doesn't bother her. He smiles inwardly. The cool, marble halls of Coruscant and her youth are a million lightyears away. She twists up her hair again for the umpteenth time, pulling the red-gold curls away from her slender neck and atop her head.

It doesn't help.

And Luke wonders if it's really the heat or being trapped here with him that is so bothersome.

Later, after the burning sun has set, he stands by the breezeless window. He can see the distant stars glimmering like diamonds in the blackness of the night. Their cold light does nothing for the stifling evening. Time drags slowly by.

She is unable to name what it is exactly that irks her so. Certainly Mara can tick off the innumerable reasons which, all entwined, contribute to her disconcertion. But still…. She watches Luke as he keeps vigil at the window. It is inconceivable to her that they have been teamed up yet again. She'd have thought Skywalker would have been more particular in accepting these little missions, especially where she was concerned. For a man she's sworn to one-day kill, Luke is in her way more than he stays out of it. And he never seems to be too worried about being alone with her.

In fact, he seems to seek her out. Perhaps he has a death wish.

And with each mission and with each meeting, Mara is certain she will have her chance to finish her last command. Yet something always stays her hand. It is beyond, she knows, just the circumstances of whatever the situation is at hand. Mara finds herself drawn to him more than she would like to admit. Luke is always polite to her, but she only responds with bitterness, and Mara hates herself for it. Deep down, she knows it is only a cover…a shield for those unnamable emotions she is not ready to face. She wonders absently how long they'll continue to ignore the proverbial Rancor in the room. Her frustration at being unable to reconcile her desire to be near him and the need to fulfill her dead Master's wishes push her to snap out at him. But he bears it with the patience of a saint.

She may just have to kill him, in the end. This indecisiveness is driving her mad. And she thinks it's a shame…they work so well together.

Her jade eyes bore into his back; he never so much as shifts.

Luke can hear her behind him, frustrations gnawing away. Mara repeatedly rolls her lightsabre along the old, worn table. She wants…. something from him. But he cannot be certain if it is conversation, a query, or a battle he should expect. He's long ago stopped soliciting conversation from her. She'll only respond with venom in any case. But that doesn't change his feelings for her.

Luke will love her until the suns of Tatooine cease to burn.

He doesn't turn to face her as she speaks. Luke has long since memorized her beautiful face. He cannot bear to see it twist with contempt for his sake. Mara's voice is low in the silence of the room. "Come on, Skywalker. Let's go outside." Luke merely nods and heads for the courtyard, lightsabre in hand. She wants to spar with him, and he acquiesces. This is their ritual now, to go out under the stars and practice each evening. Luke is grateful they are able to work off some of their pent up frustrations this way. Stepping into the courtyard and onto the sand, Mara gives him her usual threat, "I'm going to kill you, you know." He is not sure if she means _now_, _tonight_, or sometime vaguely in the _future_. And he answers, "So you say."

This time she stops walking when he murmurs his perfected response. Mara turns to face him, tapping her lightsabre hilt against his chest. She is always so careful to avoid contact with him; even this remote touch is electric.

He can feel it, can she?

"I mean it, Skywalker…."

Luke does not back down. "I'm waiting," is his reply. Mara cocks her head, considering him. She narrows her eyes at him sharply. "Watch your back, farmboy."

He sighs as he moves into his starting position, lightsabre at the ready. "Mara, around you, I watch _everything_…." He lets the statement trail off, purposefully being vague.

She isn't amused, and attacks him immediately. She never wins, of course. Her anger at him, which fuels her assault, is also what defeats her. Luke has tried to tell her this, but realizes that until she is ready to let go of her hate, she will never listen. Still, she is one of the best sparring partners he has ever had, and he always enjoys the practice. Having her around keeps him on his toes. Besides, she's fiercely alluring when she's in a rage. If she could only learn to control that, put it to a focused purpose.

And he thinks it's a shame…they'd be so beautiful together…

Tonight, however, Mara is more provoked than usual. This mission, this planet, the heat, Skywalker, her failure…all swirl around and around her mind in a smoldering whirlwind of frustration. Their lightsabres paint the courtyard in silvery blue and green. The interplay of light and colour is haunting; Luke must take care not to get lost in the display.

Mara launches again at Luke, twisting and turning with her dancer's grace. But he thwarts her every move, and it only serves to incite her even more. And as she attacks, and swings, she says something to him Luke's never heard from her before. "I hate you," she grates out as he disarms her, lightsabre dropping from her hand and into his. Their lightsabres fizzle out of existence, plunging them back into the sultry darkness.

Luke is stunned. So much so that he takes two steps back, as if punched in the gut. He's always believed that her distaste for him was based on some long ago lost grudge. He secretly wishes it is really a cover for how he _hopes_ she feels for him. Something she cannot yet admit to herself. An unacknowledged feeling, smoldering under the surface. Spite is the diversion from her true emotions.

"Mara," he whispers, shaking his head. They regard each other a long, heavy moment. He wants to say something to her, but he can think of nothing that will not lead to a long and unwanted conversation, and silently hands her back her weapon.

She takes it, the hilt slick in the heat of the night. From the heat of battle and the heat of her tormented wrath. It is dark again in the courtyard, but Luke can see her green eyes glow, lit with some internal fire. She raises the saber, points it at him, silvery in the far away glint of the stars. And she says what he knows she will say. "_I'm going to kill you…"_ it is almost said with regret.

Luke moves fast, grasping her wrist with both his hands. He steps forward and presses his chest into the lightsabre hilt.

"Do it," he whispers. "End this."

Mara does not move. All she has to do it ignite the blade. They both know this. Luke pushes harder into the hilt. His gaze never wavers. Mara can see, can _feel, _the emotions which pass through his clear blue eyes. Fatigue, worry, ambivalence, admiration, torment…and something else. An emotion more layered and concealed. She has no time to analyze it, though. Luke speaks and her attention is drawn to his words. "You want to, Mara. I _know_ you want to do it. But you can't, can you? What's stopping you? What is it that holds you back?"

She cannot speak; only the silent tears which well to her eyes say anything at all. "Perhaps you aren't yet ready to face the truth for your reasons. Maybe you don't even know yourself," Luke rasps quietly into the dark. His hand reaches out to cup her cheek.

This raises her ire even more. She slaps his gesture and his insinuations away. "How dare you…how dare you presume to know…" she is cut off by his next question.

"Why do you detest me so much, Mara?" He leans in, catching and keeping her gaze. "What do you want from me?"

Mara slowly slides the lightsabre hilt up his chest, away from his heart, and places it under his chin. It rests against the vulnerable pulse of his vein. "I want…the truth." His brows furrow in confusion. "I _want_ to know what happened on the Death Star. I have to understand if the reasons why I want to kill you are valid."

And there it is. So very simple. So she _has_ been warring internally with her desire to end his life.

Perhaps he can save her yet.

He's never made public the events of that night. Only Leia knows what had taken place between his Father and the Emperor. Speculation runs rampant through the galaxy, but he does not take the trouble to correct it. No matter what he says about how his Father had saved him, Luke will never be able to convince the universe that Vader had been redeemed. It is pointless to try.

Despite the weapon at his throat, Luke points his chin down to better look her in the eye. "Why don't you tell me what you think happened, and we can go from there." He raises both his hands up, a gesture of supplication, and takes a slow step away from her.

She does not wait, instead using her courage in the moment to launch a verbal attack. "What I _think_ happened?" she asks angrily, "Let's start with what I am certain of. _You_ destroyed my life," she hisses at Luke, the lightsabre again pointed at him. "You killed him. You killed Palpatine, I saw it. Somehow, you convinced Vader to turn against our Master, and then you both attacked him." Mara is seething now. "I witnessed it, Skywalker, I could see everything my Master did. I _felt_ it…" she pauses as she steps back to brace herself against the wall. "I _still_ feel it." He knows she is not finished and waits in the stifling silence. "In one moment, some nobody farmboy from some nothing backwater planet completely snuffed out my entire purpose for being. You ripped everything away from me…you and Vader." A beat. She takes the time to compose herself, clipping her lightsabre back to her belt. "I know, Skywalker, why _you_ went after Palpatine. I know the Alliance sent you to kill him. But I need you to tell me the reasons why Vader helped you." Mara glares at him from the darkness. "How in the Maker's name did you ever persuade Darth Vader to assist in your petty vendetta and kill his _own_ _Master_?"

_ Ahh, there it is,_ he thinks. Luke inhales loudly, the sound sharp even to his ears. There are so many things wrong with what Mara has said. He just needs to figure out where to start to untangle the confused mess of half-truths and misconceptions that she has just laid at his feet.

"I did attack Palpatine, Mara. But I only went after him once. Vader stepped in and I ended up fighting with him. I won't deny that the Emperor's death would not have been beneficial to the Alliance, but I didn't go there to kill him. My goal was to turn Vader back from the Dark Side."

Mara pushes off the sandstone block wall, and moves toward Luke with an indignant intensity. She is about to counter him, but Luke holds up his hand. "Let me finish, please. I swear to you I'll answer all of your questions." She stops short of him, and her hand rests upon her belted lightsabre. Luke notes this with chagrin, and continues. "I sparred with Vader and defeated him." Luke passes his hand over his face as the memories of his Father at his feet flood his mind. "The Emperor tried to goad me to the Dark Side. I refused." He looks down to his booted feet, the familiar feeling of sand under them a sort of comfort. "_He_ attacked _me_." He looks up to Mara, can see the disbelief in her eyes. "It's true, Mara. You know I would never lie…not to you, especially."

He can sense her ire, see her clench and unclench her jaw, even in the dimness of the courtyard. "Finish it, Skywalker. I'm strong enough to hear the rest."

Luke knows that much is true. Not many women as young as she was could have made it through the kind of upbringing she had, much less survived the aftermath.

"He attacked me, and then Vader attacked him. I was too close to death myself at that point to even attempt to go after Palpatine." He takes a step toward her now, slowly. "Vader was the one, Mara, who killed the Emperor. It wasn't me and it wasn't a coup. I'm sorry I've never told you before." He stops close to her, inches away. "I had no idea it was so important to you."

If it is this difficult for him watching the foundations of Mara's very beliefs crack and crumble, Luke can only imagine how _she_ feels. Her reasons, once clutched and protected like some holy talisman, are now rendered baseless. Her whole mission to seek him out and kill him has been revealed to her to be nothing more than a lie. She is wavering, one moment wanting to strike out at him and the next to fall into his arms, although out of relief or some other emotion she cannot say. It is unnerving, and she turns away from him. Mara returns to the support of the sandstone wall, runs her hand down the uneven surface. Some things are falling into place, but she isn't satisfied yet. There are pieces that still do not make sense. "Vader," she says simply, calmly. "_Why_ would you try to turn Vader back?" She is shaking her head, not comprehending his reasons. "Why in the Maker's name would he help _you_?"

And in that moment, Luke understands her. Of all the people in the whole universe, he thinks ironically, surely it would be Mara who has no idea of his connection to Vader. All those years hiding from the Alliance, with Karrde and the smugglers…she has stayed out of the public eye and incredibly missed one very major announcement.

"Mara," he says earnestly, "Vader was my _Father_." He does not elaborate. It is enough. There is silence as she stares at the wall, stock-still. Her hand balls up into a fist against the surface. Disbelief infuses her, but Mara knows she must face him, and she slowly turns as if in pain. He is braced for an attack, but instead she again presses her back to the support of the sandstone.

"That's not true," she accuses him. "That's impossible." Luke knows a moment of irony as his very words to his own Father are leveled back at him.

"Mara, you know it is. Can't you sense it?" He advances again toward her. She is pinned by the weight of her disbelief to the wall, held by his intense honesty. "Vader wanted me to join him in overthrowing the Emperor. That's probably why Palpatine sent you to kill me. He realized that I'd never turn to the Dark Side, and that my Father would attempt to use me in an attack against him. Better to kill me off than to lose two Skywalkers at the same time." Luke waits a moment, to let his words truly reach her. "My Father killed Palpatine because he'd turned back from the Dark Side. He did it for me, to save my life." He meets her gaze again, trying to infuse a greater meaning into his next sentence. "Vader saved me out of love."

Mara cannot speak. She merely stares at him dully. But beneath her tormented eyes her mind is desperately trying to make sense of it all. She pushes off the wall and walks away from him, to the other side of the courtyard. She is turned from him as she speaks, looking up to the stars. "Then that means…" she begins, and falters. But Mara gathers her words and swings back to face him fully. "That means Palpatine wants me to kill you as revenge for what Vader…" her eyes meet Luke's, "what your Father did to him." She comes to a realization. "It's not really about you. It was never about…_you_." A sense of relief sweeps through her, and Mara knows it is because she's never really _wanted_ to kill him.

Luke shifts in the sand, a silent acknowledgment of her epiphany. He gives her an understanding smile. Forgiveness. Perhaps Mara will see him in a new light now. Maybe she'll be able to move past viewing him as the man who destroyed her life. He absently worries that he disgusts her now that she knows who he is…the son of Vader. There was never any love lost between the Dark Lord and the Emperor's Hand. He just wants her to see him as he is: her friend, some-time partner, and, perhaps one day, something more.

Or perhaps today. No time like the present.

Luke decides to broach the subject he's been avoiding for months now. He never knows when he'll see her again, and since they are finally having a real conversation, Luke determines to not let the opportunity pass. "What if it is about me, Mara? You and me?" Another moment of silence, and then, "What if it has always been about _us_?"

She is weary now, carrying the burden of this new information, and so Mara can only answer him with an arched eyebrow. Incredulity. He takes it as a signal to continue. "Don't you find it interesting that we seem to end up working together? Somehow you and I get teamed up again and again." He has been steadily moving toward her across the courtyard. Now they are almost toe-to-toe. "And even in those times when you swore you'd kill me, something always stayed your hand. You'd think that the Force would have kept me as far away from you as possible, but circumstances keep bringing us together." He is gazing at her intensely, and Mara finds herself unable to look away. "Even now, here we are, just you and I."

Finally from Mara, "What's your point, Skywalker?"

Luke leans in, closer to her, and whispers, "Do you believe in destiny, Mara?" He is unnerving her, but not making her uncomfortable She finds it thrilling to be so close to him, and is frozen in her tracks. Mara's feet seem to be rooted to the spot, mesmerized by his intense blue eyes and what he is saying to her. "No," she breathes out shakily. It is a lie, and the word seems to be swallowed up by the tension and the heat.

"I do, Mara. My whole life seems to have been ruled by destiny. Or the Force. Call it what you will. It doesn't change what I know is true." His voice is low, calm, certain.

Mara is trembling now. She's never been afraid of anything in her life, yet here she is, shaking in ambivalent anticipation for the next words from the man she has avowed to kill. Some small part of her, a part from her old life, tells Mara not to say anything. She should walk away from him, get in her ship and fly to anywhere else but here. Yet something holds her fast. "What truth is that?" she asks, her voice still betraying her.

He is only inches away, closer than she's ever allowed him. He speaks in a low murmur now, "That we are _meant_ to be together."

She begins to shake her head to deny it even though she knows it is true, but he finishes crossing the distance to her and captures her lips with his. It is a sweet, gentle kiss, but Mara can sense the promise of the passion he has for her in it. He pulls her closer. For a brief moment, she allows herself to sink into that feeling. But old habits die-hard and this is not something she can handle at the moment. Too much information and too many emotions are crowding her mind, conflicting with what she knows is truth and what she used to believe. Mara needs space to think straight, to breathe. She pushes him back, half angry at his presumptuousness. Mara raises her hand to strike him, but Luke does not flinch away. She finds she cannot bring herself to do it, and spins on her heel away from him, the sand grinding under her boots. She makes it to the doorway before she feels his hands on her arms, turning her around and pushing her smoothly up against the wall. He braces with his body, flush against her.

"No," Luke tells her, "Not like that. You can tell me you don't feel it too, you can deny that we have a future together," she struggles briefly but half-heartedly, and keeps her pressed against the sandstone, "but I will not allow you to walk away from me without talking about this, Mara. We've danced around it for far too long."

Her ire rises at being trapped, and Mara grits her teeth. "Let me go, Skywalker." He eases his grip on her arms, but refuses to relent. "No," he states simply.

"Sithspawn," she curses at him, giving one last wriggle to try to break free.

He does not miss a beat as he answers, "Guilty." But there is a gentle humour in his eyes at that, and Mara opens her mouth to apologize. "Don't," he says, "it's true, anyway." His mouth turns up in a slow smile. "What will they say…the Emperor's Hand and the son of Vader." He contemplates that a moment. "A dangerous combination, if you ask me. They'll think we're resurrecting the Empire." He trails off, suddenly mesmerized by the faint pulse in her neck.

"I haven't answered you, if you remember, farmboy. Don't go insinuating some grand future for us just yet." She whispers to him, "Who says I'll even consider it?"

His eyes are staring into hers intensely. "You already are, Mara. Otherwise I know I wouldn't even be alive to have this conversation with you." His tone is light, but he is deadly seriously. "Please, Mara, don't turn away from this…from us."

Mara meets his intense gaze, realizing the truth behind what he is saying. She _has_ been running from this. It is the final piece of the puzzle. The reason why she could never bring herself to kill him. Mara could come up with a million excuses as to why she's left him alive, but in her heart she knows the true motive.

Fate, destiny, the Force…there are a million words for it. Mara understands suddenly where her path will take her. She belongs with him.

But not now. She's not ready now.

Gently, Mara raises her hands to take his off her arms. Luke waits for her to push them away, but instead she grasps them in her own. She knows he needs proof to back up what she is about to tell him. Mara slowly brings one of his hands to her lips, kisses the knuckles softly. "I swear, Luke, I'm not running away from this. And I don't deny there is truth in what you say." A ragged sigh escapes him then, and she smiles to know she has that power over him. "But I need time, Luke. I have to resolve some things, figure out a few others." She looks at their intertwined hands, her smile returning. "You've given me a lot to think about, and to work through. Let's not rush this."

He nods, knowing she deserves that much. Mara releases his hands, and he steps back, ready to let her go. But to his delight she leaves the wall and slips into his arms. She leans back to look at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "We'll pick up this conversation tomorrow, shall we?" He can hear some of her rarely displayed sense of humour coming back into her voice. "But next time, let's avoid the dramatics, alright?"

Luke laughs softly, with chagrin, replying, "I'm sorry about that, Mara. I just didn't know any other way to make you listen." He rubs her arms gently. "It was a bit aggressive, I know."

"It was stupid, farmboy. You're lucky to still be alive after that." She catches herself, realizing what she's just said. But she knows the words have taken on a different context. It's no longer a true threat. So she tells him, "You really must have a death wish, farmboy," she tells him.

He gives her a quizzical look and asks, "Why is that?"

Mara cups his cheek with her hand, an echo of his gesture. "Because if this works, Skywalker, if we see this through…" she gives him a broad smile, "I'm going to kill you, you know."

He returns the smile. "I always knew you'd be the death of me."

Mara leans forward and places a simple kiss to his lips. Luke is pleasantly surprised and before he can respond she is untwining herself from his arms and heading back inside. He watches her go, the urge to hold her again filling him. He wants to follow her, to hash it out right away…but he must honour her request.

She disappears into the dwelling, and Luke looks up to the distant silvery stars. He may have to bide his time, but at least he knows what is waiting for him. Luke touches his lips and smiles, remembering the sweetness of her kiss. He has this, at least. The memory of her kiss is the history of things to come.


End file.
